Touch Was Never So Warranted
by Pinlicous
Summary: Season 7 Canon Divergence : Sam, after his wall comes crashing down, can no longer touch another human or object without feeling some degree of pain. Dean still enlists Castiel's help, but Sam cannot take the feel of his touch long enough for Castiel to take his pain. Instead, Castiel finds other ways of soothing his friend's pain.


**Author's Note** It was extremely nice to write some fluffly Sastiel for once! I've had my eye on the ship for a while, but I don't believe I've ever really wrote anything with it. I tried to find a good spot in the show to allow some hugging/cuddling!

Lovely prompt from zombie-wat via tumblr. Thank you for such a sweet request~

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It had been five months, two days, and thirteen hours since the last time Sam had touched anyone. Sam didn't touch anyone anymore, not even Dean, as it hurt. It hurt like every brush of skin was a grate of sandpaper and every tentative touch became a hard pressed bruise. His nerves were sent into overdrive after his time in Hell, and they took it up a notch once Sam's wall came down.

But, this had been a problem for Sam. Sam had a compassionate sort of personality and he loved to feel another body next to him. The body heat, the reassuring touch; He needed all of these things, yet it was impossible for him to get it without crawling out of his skin with pain as the driving force.

And that was why, when Cas raised his hand to Sam's forehead, intending to take on Sam's pain, Sam screamed. He flailed his arms, punching and kicking, begging anyone that would listen to just _let him die_.

It took three hours to calm Sam down.

"Please, Sam, please...," Dean begged, sitting on the edge of Sam's bed, keeping a comfortable distance.

Sam's lungs were still raw from screaming and his skin felt overstretched from all the contact Dean was forced to make and all Sam could muster was a slight shake of his head. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to feel the blazing heat of the sun or the stinging cut of grass. He didn't want to be near anyone, yet he wanted to be near_ someone_.

He felt as if he had been dying, slowly and painfully, and surely not soon enough. He didn't fear death as at this point, however. Instead, he welcomed it with opens arms. He wanted to feel the weight rise off his chest. He wanted to taste the metallic taste of blood on his lips take over the sour taste stinging his throat. He just wanted to die, if only to escape from this horrid reality. The only thing keeping him back was the fear of brimstone crackling at his feet again.

"Sam, I can't do this without you..."

"I said I'm too tired, Dean," Sam's voice broke and he bit down on his tongue, hissed at the pain in his throat. He shook his head again when Dean opened his mouth, stared at his older brother with pleading eyes.

"But... Sam, Cas can take the pain away. Don't you get that? You'll be able to touch again."

Sam saw his brother's forced smile and knitted eyebrows. He knew, just by the sight of his brothers face, that Dean was just as tired and just as burnt out. He knew that his brother _did_ need him, but he couldn't go through with it.

"Don't you get it, Dean? I deserve this," He choked, some weak form of finality in his voice that obviously didn't reach his brother, because Dean was right back to opening his mouth again.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I drank the blood, I unleashed the devil, I started the apocalypse. It was all me, Dean, and I deserve this."

Dean was at a lose for words and his mouth proved it by opening and closing like it were a fish. His older brother bowed his head and stared at his feet, shoulders rising and falling with each steady breath. He looked up moments later, his own pleading look in his eyes now.

"No, Sam... You-"

Sam stared at him, shaking his head once more as if it was the only way he could communicate.

Perhaps it was.

"Alright, fine...," Dean said angrily, standing so abruptly that it made Sam flinch. There was a lot that made Sam flinch then, but Sam had been use to his brother being so careful around him at the time that it had been just so out of place and almost scary. His older brother stormed out of the door, closing it hard enough to crack the door frame slightly. Sam sighed and laid back against his pillow, that was propped up against the wall, and held himself tightly.

The light foot steps that came were planned, Sam could tell, even looking through crazy goggles. Sam expected it to be Dean, back to apologize, or perhaps to drive into him harder. But Sam hadn't looked over, stared intently at the white washed wall in front of him as a way to steel himself; a pinpoint of concentration.

"Sam."

The deep, harsh voice was strained, almost as if _he_ was the one who had screamed his lungs out moments earlier. Sam felt a pang of guilt in his stomach and soon it rose up into his throat, swiftly turned into bile. Sam had to clamp his hand to his mouth, swallowed hard to keep the vomit down.

It wasn't his brother. It was Castiel. The once-family member who touched his forehead so lightly, yet crumbled every possible salvation he had. The once-god that came back to life. The one who felt guilt and remorse for his actions that were so rightfully acted upon.

He wasn't angry with Cas and he wasn't afraid of him. He was still blissfully in love with him, the very idea of him. While all the other angels had turned out to be dickless dicks, Cas remained, for the most part, the angel every church goer dreamed of. One that helped people when they needed it and healed people of their wounds when they were too weak to stitch yourself up. The one who defied his own father to save Dean's life. The one who once decided that Sam was worthy enough to be called a "friend".

Sam's shaky smile faltered once he took a look at Cas. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen looking. He wondered if angels could really cry and then his thoughts evolved to Castiel's state of humanity.

Was he falling again?

"It's alright," Sam assured, voice as even as he could make it. It cracked and broke and stung his throat, but he had to say it. He had to let Castiel know that it _was_ alright.

Castiel stepped closer to Sam, tentative and careful steps. They were unsure that time around, but Sam applauded Castiel for his efforts anyway.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Cas confessed, voice lowered and evened. His hand stretch out again before he can catch himself and Sam flinched back. The look on the angel's face broke Sam's heart about as much as his inability to hold another human being.

"I didn't mean to scream. You aren't at fault here."

The angel scoffed, glanced toward the wall Sam was looking at previously, and snapped his hand back.

"This is all my fault, Sam. All of your pain- because of my selfish need to be a better God then my father."

"Collateral damage, Cas," Sam began but was cut off when Cas raised his hand for silence.

Cas didn't say anything, but soon took up his earlier path to Sam. Sam wanted to flinch away again, maybe get up and run like hell, but he didn't. He sucked in a breath each time Cas took a step and he felt light-headed by the time Cas was ten feet closer.

"Please, let me do this for you."

Sam shook his head as he did for his brother.

"Then, I beg of you, allow me to touch you."

Sam was taken aback, confused and unaware of what Castiel wanted. At this point, Sam decided, Cas wouldn't try to trick Sam into anything, and so Sam nodded his head "yes" for the first time that night.

The first bare touch of fingertips to his cheek stung like hell, but then an overwhelmingly soft, ethereal feeling came upon the touch. It soothed the stinging feeling and turned it into the comfort he'd been craving for over five months.

Sam's eyes darted to Castiel's, searched for answers of _how this could be_ and _can I ask you to never stop this?_

Cas' palm was flush against Sam's cheek and Sam leaned into it heavily, closed his eyes as tears streamed down his face. The wet trails stung heavily and possibly left deep red marks in their wake, but it was a peaceful kind of sob that wretched it's way out of Sam's lungs. Castiel's thumb grazed at the tears and wiped them away. It left the same gentle sensation in it's path, sooth Sam's whole soul.

"You could feel this again, Sam. I could do this for you," Castiel said, voice soft but deep.

"No... I..."

Sam opened his eyes to a beautiful garden full of every type of flower imaginable. The dingy lighting of his room had turned into something elegant only the sun could produce. The creaky, hard bed he was laying on was now a soft bed of grass. For a minute, Sam waited for the sting of it to penetrate his skin as it usually did, but Castiel only shook his head when Sam looked back for more answers.

Sam swallowed harshly and his eyebrows came together. He questioned himself as to why Cas- the angelic force of good, the protector of all things holy, the warrior of God himself- would do this for him- the abomination, the antichrist, the boy with the demon blood. And for a moment, Sam thought he saw it in the blue depths of Castiel's eyes. Before those eyes came closer, distracting him from the angel's arms coming to wrap around him.

It was the tightest embrace- the only embrace- he had for such a long time that he just went limp. His body caved in on Castiel's and he allowed his new found guardian angel to protect him and to hold him where no one else was able. He allowed his breath to seep into Cas' skin, rose harder breaths from the angel.

Sam wanted to speak, to tell Cas what he felt at this moment, but the only thing that came to mind was _why_, exactly, Sam had allowed this to happen. It was obvious at the start; Sam was deprived of human contact. But, as he analyzed it closer, he couldn't bring himself to blame it on that.

"Cas..."

The small words that came from Sam's throat were muffled by the soft press of Castiel's lips.

To Sam's surprise- or perhaps not quite- Castiel's lips were soft, smooth, and nothing like Sam imagined. In all honesty, Sam hadn't taken the time to have really thought of Castiel's lips to the full extent he had at that moment. Nonetheless, they were amazing. They were the contact he wanted more than anything.

Their breath gained speed and heat as their lips moved together in a mismatch rhythm. Kissing an angel may have been romanticized and over-hyped in love novels, but Castiel was truly none the wiser when it came to kissing. Every time Sam began to take control, Castiel intercepted, insisted on control which Sam gladly gave up.

Sloppy kisses had been things Sam never thought he'd enjoy beyond his teenage years, but right then, with Castiel licking and sucking haphazardly on his tongue, Sam fell into a deep sense on contentment.

Sam leaned back against the grassy ground, revealed in the feeling of- or lack there of- sensation, Castiel applied his full wait on Sam's body and their bodies didn't fit together as one might expect to think, but it was perfect in the only awkward way an angel and human romantic moment could be.

They had laid like that for a long time, kissing, sucking, and biting tenderly, never moving past that. It was that sweet kind of innocence that Sam missed in kissing. The not-need to move faster or harder or, simply, at all. There were just hands that roamed carefully, soothingly, explored each others' bodies, mapping each contour and crevasse.

Sam didn't nod yes after Cas asked him one more time. He simply said, "As long as I have you, there isn't really a reason for me to need to touch another human being."


End file.
